Caressa's Knees by Annabel Joseph Page B

try it her problem was solved, because a businessman appeared at her elbow with two beers in his hand.
    “Hello. Lonely?”
    Caressa looked at him, not sure what to respond. Yes, I’m lonely. No, not for you. Not that he wasn’t attractive in a rich businessman kind of way. He was pretty short and not classically handsome, but he exuded success and power. He was probably some corporate higher-up on a business trip. When she didn’t answer, he held out one of the beers, a question in his eyes.
    After a moment, she took it. “Thanks.”
    “Can I sit down?”
    “Sure.”
    He sat beside her, not crowding her. He didn’t seem to be too drunk or sloppy. “So, are you lonely?” she asked, turning his question back on him.
    He laughed. “Not really. Just bored. I’ve been in a hundred of these hotel bars. Hundreds of hotel rooms. They get old.”
    Caressa looked down at the beer bottle. It was some brand she’d never heard of, probably some expensive import. She took a tentative sip. “Yeah, I know.”
    He looked surprised, or perhaps amused. “Aren’t you a little young to be jaded by travel?”
    She shrugged, made nervous by the way he scrutinized her. She hated the taste of the beer, but she didn’t want to be rude and not drink it. She took another miniscule sip and let the bitter liquid sit on her tongue. “I travel for a living,” she finally said.
    “Doing what?”
    Caressa hesitated. How much should she tell him about herself? He was a complete stranger. Her eyes darted around the room. It’s not like she wasn’t safe here. It’s not like he could make her do anything she didn’t want to do, no matter how rich and assertive he seemed. She inched away from him a little and smiled, toying with the neck of her beer bottle. “I’m a musician,” she said. “I play with various orchestras. I’m touring right now.”
    “Ah.” He looked duly impressed. “What instrument do you play?”
    “Cello.”
    “I used to play a little sax back in the day.” He smiled ruefully. “I didn’t keep up with it. Doubt I could play a note now.”
    “Really? Music is like bike-riding. You never forget.”
    “Maybe. My name’s Michael, by the way.”
    “Hi, Michael. I’m Caressa.”
    He shook her hand with a warm, firm grip. She thought he shook it a little too long. “Caressa. That’s different. So I take it you’re not a Seattleite.”
    “No. I’m a New Yorker.”
    “I’m from Toronto.” She watched him take a deep drink of his beer and tipped her bottle back too. He was old enough to be her father. She got the feeling he liked that. She turned a little from his intent gaze, and then noticed a tall, dark-haired man sitting at the far end of the bar. His face lifted and all-too-familiar eyes latched on to hers. She quickly lowered the beer bottle from her lips, but he was already up.
    “Um…” was all she managed to get out before he arrived at the table.
    “Making new friends?” Kyle bit out.
    “Excuse me?” Michael’s voice bristled.
    Kyle pushed her beer back to his side of the table. “Yeah, she’s not old enough to be drinking that. And really not old enough for a business-trip hookup either. If you’ll excuse us,” he drawled, pulling Caressa from her chair and leading her toward the door.
    “Let go of me.” She pulled her arm away, too embarrassed to look back and see what Michael was making of this.
    “What are you doing down here?” he asked.
    “What are you doing down here?” she shot back.
    “I was trying not to have a drink, Caressa. Although I’m legally of age to do so. Unlike you.”
    “I’m almost twenty-one. And what do you mean, ‘trying not to have a drink’? Why were you in the bar, then?”
    “That’s a story for another day. So were you seriously planning to hook up with that toad?”
    “He was very nice.”
    “Said the hopelessly naive victim. He’s a married businessman on a trip wanting to screw you after he got a few beers in you.”
    “How do you